


Golden Moments

by hafren



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-19
Updated: 2009-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-03 09:16:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hafren/pseuds/hafren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Horatio and Archie prepare for a voyage</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden Moments

The first lieutenant's harassed frown relaxed as he saw the last of the provisions for the long voyage stowed below. "Do you know, Mr Hornblower, I fancy we have all in readiness at last."

"I believe the gilder is still at work, sir."

"Ah, the gilder… well, he is the captain's concern and in his employ. Doubtless all will be done by the time the captain comes off tomorrow, if the fellow knows what is good for him." The frown was creeping back. "Perhaps, Mr Hornblower, you might step along and see how the work proceeds?"

Horatio strolled to the quarterdeck, where he knew the craftsman was putting the final touches to some decorative swags on the woodwork. As far as the Navy was concerned, gold paint would have done well enough for that, but a captain who had the means, and was fond enough of show, could pay for ornamental work to be gilded, and this one had.

Proud as he was of his new posting, Horatio agreed with the Navy. He could see no great odds between paint and gilt; the gilt was shinier, but a week of wind and salt water would soon change that, and it hardly seemed worth such a fiddling, tortuous process, not to mention the cost.

Not everyone agreed, though. Horatio's face broke into a smile as he saw who was by the gilder, watching his every move intently.

"Why, Archie, still here? Mr Atwell will have to take you on for an apprentice at this rate. Is the work near done?"

Atwell the gilder, carefully tamping a tiny fragment of leaf into a crevice with the tip of a soft brush, took no notice. Horatio was used to this; he knew that a moment's inattention, with such costly materials, would come at a high price.

"Aye, Horatio, just this last spray." Archie's face was radiant; he had been fascinated by the intricate, arcane work since it began and had favoured Horatio with much unwanted information on the properties of japanners' size and the relative merits of camel and sable hair in brushes - tips, as Archie insisted they should be called.

"Skewing bag," Atwell said suddenly and inexplicably, at least to Horatio, but Archie at once glanced around and picked up a sort of paper horn. He held it underneath where Atwell was working, and the craftsman, with a tip hardly a hair wide, brushed along the edge he had just gilded. Tiny flecks of gold fell into the horn, to be saved and used again. Atwell grunted in satisfaction and surveyed the woodwork. "One more leaf."

He had an oblong, parchment-covered board, with a wind-screen at one end, and straps beneath for the thumb and fingers. Now he slipped it on and with infinite care opened his book of leaves close to it, eased the blade of a knife in and manoeuvred a leaf out on to the board. It did not lie quite even; he tutted and blew it very gently into smoothness. Then he eyed up the wood yet to be gilded and cut the strips of leaf he needed, with such delicacy it seemed the knife hardly touched them. Archie watched with lips parted, mesmerised, while Horatio admired the craftsman's perfectionism and wished it were expended in some more useful endeavour.

Atwell took another brush and, to Horatio's complete surprise, stroked it across his own hair.

"The natural oil," explained Archie, "it attracts the gold." Sure enough, when the brush was lowered to the board, the leaf fluttered up to it as if to a magnet and was conveyed to the wood, tacky with size, which attracted it even more. Twice more the gilder did this, and the work was all but finished, when, just as the ribbon of leaf was flying toward the brush, a stray breeze intervened. Atwell cursed under his breath as a momentary shower of gold flakes dispersed through the air, hanging and glittering like dust-motes in sunlight. Archie watched them, entranced, and Horatio felt a rush of affection, not just for him but for the moment they were in. It was a rare one, he suddenly realised. Tomorrow the captain would come off and the voyage begin; they would be constantly occupied. There would be few stray moments floating suspended in time, with nothing to do but gaze at a lit face. He found himself wishing he could catch such moments in one of Mr Atwell's paper horns, to relive later, and dismissed his own whimsy, embarrassed. But they were so pretty, the drifting splinters; they lifted his heart, though he could not help wondering how many guineas were involved.

 

What he thought even prettier, that night, was finding tiny glints of gold in Archie's hair, in the laugh-lines around his mouth, even in the crevices of his eyelids. Horatio stroked them into golden smears, noting how well they set off blue eyes, and felt irrationally happy, as he had when he saw the dancing flakes. He was not one for omens, but it would have taken very little to make him feel light-hearted about this posting, to a famous ship, with a famous captain, and his greatest source of happiness alongside him. How foolish, to have wanted to hold on to a few golden moments, when there would be so many more. He could feel the smile spreading across his face: he reckoned that, as Styles would have put it, the _Renown_ would turn out to be a good-luck ship.


End file.
